A Blast from the Past and a lost longedfor future
by NitnatRide
Summary: Ciriana was taken from a Kim-un-kur village when she was 11. Now 16, she works as a Igneous' slave since then. What happens when her path crosses with the gang's? Does she know one of them already? Please read 1st A/N for explanation for any plot mistakes
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys. Just so you know, the only +Anima book I've read is the third one, so I don't know a lot about the details of the gang's pasts, I just caught up with the synopsis in the front of the book (for the Japanese). So don't shoot me down in flames, if I get things wrong or make things up that are mentioned in the book. Thanks.**

**Fly on, NitnatRide**

**Chapter 1: Things so far**

**Ciriana's POV**

Hey. I'm Ciriana, pronounced 'SI-ree-AH-nah', but the one and only friend I had called me C. Even my parents didn't know about the nickname. I'm from the Kim-un-kur tribe, but I was taken from the mountain village, Liali (pronounced 'li-AH-li'), when I was 11. Defiance and defence are my natural instincts whenever my friends and/or family are threatened. Igneous doesn't take kindly to those gifts, especially if they are sent by a Kim-un-kur. When Igneous and his troops came to Liali, my best friend's mother, bless her whether she's living or dead now, she stood up to them, flatly refusing to let them into her house; they were going to loot her husband's entire smithy, an attachment to their home, as punishment for the robbery of weapons from the soldiers' camp, which of course _**must**_ have been committed by Kim-un-kur. Okay, so it _**was**_ committed by Kim-un-kur – me and my best friend used to be great thieves, especially in Igneous' camp – but I was still outraged by the automatic prejudicial assumption.

Anyway, I remember just entering the Liali outskirts from the forest with my best friend (we were both great hunters because of what we were – well, _**are**_) just in time to see his mother spreading her arms out wide across the doorway, proudly facing down Igneous, who was flanked by two guards, with the rest of his men either standing behind the threesome, or making sure the other villagers didn't intervene. They weren't expecting two eleven-year-olds to come from behind them though; as soon as we saw one of the guards strike his mother across the face, we raced down the hill. We both started changing into our +Anima on the way down, which made me even faster than him than I already was. I kicked the guard off the woman and stood defensively in front of her, growling and snarling fiercely with the aid of my +Anima, a jaguar.

My best friend, ferocious himself especially in his +Anima form, was growling as well at the intruding commander. However, I saw that he was trying to push himself in front of me; he was always protective of me. I nudged him away with my shoulder, glaring at him to signal that he wouldn't protect me this time. If we hadn't been surrounded by such a large number of guards, he would have wrestled with me then, pinning me down on the floor until I gave into his wish; he was certainly strong enough to do so, even then. But because the circumstances were different than those in his favour, I remained where I was, and where I wanted to be; by his side.

He still wouldn't give up though, and one last attempt seemed to push my over the edge in frustration; he knew about my heightened hearing, so he knew I could hear him when he whispered to me.

"Run."

He was never much of a talker, except with me – he spoke a little more than his average – and I usually relished every word he said, what with his soft and mellow voice that seemed to caress you. But this time it wasn't a caress; it was a shove over the edge of desperation to prove myself to him. I advanced to Igneous, not charging, but not exactly skipping to him either. My frustration for my best friend thinking so low of my fighting skills – even though he and I had been training together since we could walk – made my fighting senses weaker, as is the norm with emotions. Two guards came at me from both sides and grabbed my arms, beginning to drag me off under Igneous' stare. That moment was the first time in my life that I had truly been afraid; the look in the commander's eyes was pure hate, nothing like I had ever seen before. Because of this unfamiliar feeling, I started to struggle and cry out to my best friend, his family, and mine. My family did not come when I cried. They merely looked on at me, as if I were decomposing already, as the guards dragged me away. The only person who tried was the one I could count on for everything. And yet I wish he hadn't tried; as he leapt after me, pushing and kicking a few soldiers out of the way, Igneous used that hate on him, unsheathing his sword and swiping it at him all in one motion. My dependable rock made a sound I had rarely heard from him – a cry of pain – and fell back to the ground, clutching his left eye. Even that could not hide the blood gushing from the wound.

I stared in horror at the painful image of my best friend, the rock, lying on the ground, his face a mask of pain. I continued to struggle, but this time not for my own gain; I knew I need to get free in order to help him. He could die of blood loss! As I neared the outskirts of Liali, I saw him get up, viewing me through his good eye being dragged off to a place that was likely to be worse than death. He ran over, but his injury made him slow, and he didn't even reach me before he collapsed onto the ground and lay still. I cried for him to get up, to be okay. I screamed to him that I didn't care if he didn't come for me, just let him be well.

I have no idea if my prayer has been answered. I'm now sixteen, and a slave for Igneous' camp wherever they go. I carry the equipment, if I do something wrong I am punished – brutally and painfully, and the only signs I have that I am Kim-un-kur are the beige leather blanket my mother made for me, the ability to speak the Kim-un-kur tongue, and the jaguar necklace that my best friend carved for me out of yew wood. He was amazing at that kind of thing, and always interested in nature and plants. Anyway, tomorrow we'll be coming into the town of Pruza, so we can stock up supplies again. It's a market town, and even if I never have any money – as if Igneous would pay me, or give me some as a reward for good work – I still like looking at some of the things being sold at markets. Maybe I'll take a much-needed break and browse the stalls if I have enough time after buying the supplies. I'll need to give my guard the slip – Igneous never lets me anywhere on my own unless I sneak off, which is usually easy enough. It's the getting back undetected which is the problem; if one of the guards or soldiers spot me, they'll _**know**_ I've been out alone, and then Igneous beats me harder for that than anything else I do wrong. I should be able to do it tomorrow; I'll just wait for the right opportunity.

**Senri's POV**

"Cooro! Can't you round them up _**any**_ closer together? I'm doing all the work here!"

"It's hard to see them through the water with the sun blinding me in the reflection! How can I round them up if I can't see them?"

The two younger boys' voices wake me from a dream of the past. Despite how tired I feel, I'm glad that they have; that day was the worst of my life, and I still have yet to find a day that rivals that theory. Lost in my thoughts, I don't realise that I have sat up and absent-mindedly started fingering my eye-patch until Nana's voice breaks the depressive trance.

"Oh, you're up." I turn to her and she smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry, Senri. I told them to keep their voices down, but they can't seem to stop arguing."

I can't help but chuckle quietly at the truth in that statement. She smiles in response, and I take her small hand and squeeze it gently to tell her that it's alright. I stand up and walk over to the edge of the lake we have stopped by. Seeing plenty of fish by the bank, I spread my leather poncho out, making my shadow look bigger. It has the desired effect; the fish swim away from one potential danger and Cooro presents another, which herds them towards Husky. Once Cooro sees me, he beams from the sky, giving me a thumbs-up.

"Thanks, Senri!"

I wave back slightly in recognition as I walk back to where Nana has the fire going. I sit down heavily; Cooro is right, the sun is intensely bright, and the heat no less so. Sighing in discomfort, I take off my thick, heavy poncho, leaving me in my horse-skin trousers and thin linen under-shirt.

"Are you alright, Senri?"

I meet Nana's concerned gaze with a shrug. "Grew up high in the mountains. Not used to warm weather."

"Well, you need to drink a lot. Here," she throws me my waterskin, and I take a long gulp. I have just finished my second draught when Cooro lands quietly on the bank whilst Husky quickly changes back into a human and walks towards the fire with their morning's work.

"Look how much fish we got!" Cooro cries gleefully.

"It's 'look how _**many**_ fish…', Cooro," Husky corrects him irritably, probably because he thinks he's done all the work.

"That's great, you guys!" Nana congratulates them before a fight can break out between them. Once the fish have been skinned, gutted and cooked, we eat mostly in silence, just enjoying the taste of the different breeds of fish found in the lake. Then Nana speaks up again.

"Where are we going now? What's the next town or village?"

Husky, always the geographer of the group, points further down the path by the lake. "Along there, the nearest town, Pruza, is about an hour's walk away. It's a market town though, so it'll be good for us to stock up the supplies so I don't have to go fishing every morning."

We pack our sleeping things up, douse the fire, then begin to walk off. Nana stops us though.

"Oohh, look! There are helicopters in that tree!" **(I don't know what that tree is called, but hopefully you know which one I'm talking about. It's the one with long, thin, dually-paired leaves that spiral as they fall).**

I look up, and sure enough, there are some up there, just waiting to for some movement to knock them from their perches. I remember back in my village, some of us children would run down to the valley, where the trees get more exotic. When one of us found one of these trees, we would call out, so everybody would get under it, then the older, taller kids would jump up and grab one of the branches, making the bizarrely-shaped leaves spiral to the ground.

I smile as I remember this, and, looking down at Nana, I realise she is no different to I was back then. So I grin in anticipation, bend my knees, and push off the ground, reaching my arms up for the lowest branch. I latch onto it, making it bounce and the leaves fall. Landing on the ground again, I hear Nana and Cooro squealing in delight, and even Husky can't hide the smile of joy this sight gives. Heck, even I'm tempted to stand under it, and I'm sixteen.

I can't help but feel happy seeing the delighted look in Nana's eyes. I remember seeing that look in _**her**_ eyes, as we skipped and jumped beneath the brilliantly-engineered leaves.

_Don't think about her, Ri._ Huh…Ri. That was her nickname for me. _Ugh! Stop dreaming about her! She's long gone, and you missed your chance._

I don't notice I'm scowling at myself until Nana once again brings me to my senses, asking if I am alright. I respond by smiling at her and nodding, then walking off down the path again. I call over my shoulder:

"Need to get going."

We set off again, leaving that tree of reminiscence that has forced its way from my past into my present. The past has collided with the present a few times over our journey so far. Who knows how many more times that will happen? At that thought – the impossibility of this hope be damned – I can't help but wonder if another certain object of my past will find its way back to me.

**Ciriana's POV**

We finally arrive in Pruza, after I had to walk behind the horses for most of the journey whilst they carry the other soldiers and other gear. Igneous only put me on one of them in the end because I apparently looked like I was going to pass out. I can't really remember it, so I wouldn't be surprised if I was about to pass out, considering how freakin' hot it is. Liali was never this hot, so my body isn't used to enduring this kind of temperature.

We leave the majority of the camp equipment – including soldiers and horses – beyond the town outskirts, so as not to attract too much attention. Igneous assigns a guard to keep an eye on me during our very brief stay. He then stuffs a piece of parchment into my hand.

"These are the supplies we need. I expect all of it to be brought back to me personally." He hands me some money. "That is the _**exact**_ amount needed for everything there. If all the money is gone, yet one or more of the supplies are missing, I shall assume you have used some of this for your own gain, and your remaining possessions shall be sold in order to gain this money back."

He certainly knows how to threaten me; I'm very protective of my possessions. I nod at him obediently, biting my tongue to keep myself from making a snappish reply. I think Igneous believes that I am obedient to him sometimes; if I do say so myself, some of the cover stories I come up with are quite convincing.

We enter the town, and the guard follows me everywhere. Luckily, the supplies Igneous has told me to get are of neither great quantity nor weight, as the guard often refuses to carry anything for me. So I use my sheepskin rucksack instead, pushing the few supplies into its almost never-ending depths. As soon as I have the last item on the list, the guard leads the way back to the arranged rendezvous. I can't stop the grin from forming on my face though when the perfect opportunity for me to escape is given; the guard is leading us towards a huge crowd of people, probably the busiest area of the market. I am just the right height (5'8") to be able to blend in easily. As we enter the crowd, I lean slightly to the left in order for it to seem like I've gotten carried off with the crowd. At that moment, somebody swings round, catching their elbow on my eye. I grumble silently about the injury, but it does the trick, and I'm carried away from the guard.

"Sir?" I call out, putting the right amount of feeling into my voice, making myself sound scared, startled and lost. I use my awesome speed to dart around the crowd, calling out every now and again to confuse the guard of my whereabouts. Eventually, I escape outside the crowd, and the guard doesn't follow me. I permit myself a small snicker of triumph, and sprint off to one part of the market that I remember looked interesting. I allow myself to breathe shortly once I reach the place, and, constantly looking around for Igneous or his men, I proceed with browsing the stalls. One product in particular catches my eye, and I stare in wonder at the small wooden, delicately-carved and –designed flute-like instrument for a good few minutes.

"Ah," the stall-keeper startles me, but I don't stop staring. "That, my dear, is a lythia. A beautiful instrument, producing a very pure tone. A common product among the –"

"Kim-un-kur," I interrupt. "I know."

There are a few seconds of silence before I flick my eyes up to the man. His old, withered body compliments the comprehension and kindness in his warm eyes.

"You are from the tribe." It's not a question.

"Yes, sir," I respond, politely addressing him out of habit; firstly, my mother brought me up so, and also, Igneous doesn't accept anything else but respectful courtesy from me.

"You do realise, _mi ali_, that Commander Igneous and his men are in this town as we speak?"

My heart constricts at the sound of the familiar Kim-un-kur endearment (pronounced 'mee AH-lee', meaning 'my sweet child'). I nod sadly at the old man.

"Yes, sir. I arrived with them."

He inclines his head in surprise, then, once again, understanding dawns on his features. "A slave." He notices the shackle-bruises on my wrists as he says this.

At that moment, I notice the sun has drifted past the position when Igneous expected us back. I gasp in dread, and turn slightly away from the stall.

"I'm so sorry. I am late."

I begin to sprint off, but the old man calls me back, using the Kim-un-kur endearment again. Something in his voice makes me stop, and I turn back towards him. He scurries around his stall, his speed contradicting his bodily state, and he has something in his hand. He grabs my wrist.

"How long ago were you taken from your home?" he whispers urgently.

"Five years, sir." I respond in the same way.

"Have you had any contact with your friends or family since then?"

"No, sir."

He places something in my hand, and I look down at it, my eyes widening. "Then take it," he insists, nodding to the lythia.

"Sir…I couldn't…" I stutter.

"I have enough money to get by, and my friends and family give me all the happiness in the world. You look like you cannot remember the meaning of the word 'happiness'."

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, my heart lifting at the first act of kindness someone has given me in a while. I grab his forearm, clutching at the lythia. "Thank you," I choke out. "Thank you."

I race off, through the market, keeping an eye out for Igneous or his guards whilst trying to stuff the lythia into one of my pockets in such a way that it doesn't make it bulge. I spot them at the end of a long street. Getting an idea for a cover story, I mess up my hair, smear dirt on my face and some of my clothes, tearing them slightly in places. I rush up to him, breathing heavily.

"Master!" I call weakly.

He whips around and scowls at me, ready to give me verbal, promising to beat me later. But when he takes in my physical state, he frowns, confused. I bend over when I'm in front of him, hands on knees whilst I catch my breath.

"I am sorry, Master. I got lost in a crowd the guard was leading me through, then when I was walking around looking for you, a homeless man attacked me. He was trying to steal some of the supplies, but I managed to push him off me before he could pull out his knife."

Igneous scrutinises me, critically taking in the tears in my mud-stained clothes. He points a finger to my eye. "And you received that bruise in your fight with the homeless man?"

I have never been so grateful for being hit in the eye in my entire life. "Yes, sir." Bending down, I open my rucksack, pulling out the entire contents, showing him that no supplies have been taken. As I tip the bag upside down, I am thankful I thought of putting the lythia in my trouser pocket instead of the bag. He gives the same inspection to the contents of the bag as he gave to me, but he finally relents, accepting my story.

"Next time, be more careful," he commands irritably. For a short, stupid moment, I think that he is telling me to be careful because he's worried about me. He destroys that hope – as with all my others before – quickly: "I don't want my supplies being damaged or intercepted."

"Yes, sir," I respond, biting my tongue for the second time that day.

_Of course, perish the thought that your _**supplies**_ be damaged._ As I think this, I realise something; if Igneous is more worried about supplies, then I am less than them. I am less useful, less important, than an inanimate object. Even after being in his presence for five years, apparently he still hasn't degraded my self-esteem enough yet, as I feel my spirit sink ever further.


	2. Painful Collision

**Chapter 2: Painful Collision**

**Senri's POV**

We arrive in Pruza at around midday, the sun beating down on my still-covered back with almost painful intensity. Cooro – bless his soul – tried to help me by flying with us, following us so that he cast me in a shadow, but in the end he got too hot as well, because of his black wings. The first thing we do is find somewhere to sit down. In the shade. Collapsing onto the floor, I breathe out a sigh of gratitude for the blessed coolness and the relief from my feet.

"Come on, Senri. We've got so much to do. We can't waste time lying around all day," Husky's voice interrupts my paradise.

I glare at him; he doesn't know what it's like. He's probably used to weather like this in the summer, but he didn't live in the mountains, where summers were cool enough for men to keep their chests covered up, rather than exposed to the ferocious sun. My linen undershirt and trousers had felt enough in the summer nights, but I was always slightly cold if I took the shirt off. Which I was always thankful for, because I don't like strangers – or people I don't trust – seeing the scar on my chest. The only people who have seen it are Cooro and…_**her**_. She was with me when it happened, and had dressed the wound so that my parents wouldn't enquire about it. They still don't know to this day. No matter how hot it gets today, I won't display the scar. I won't make my friend's personal vow of silence for nothing.

Husky calls to me again, and I scramble up to meet the others with refreshed liveliness after relaxing in the shade for a few minutes.

We wander around the market town, and at lunchtime we sit down in the shade again, munching on some sort of meat on a stick. We have food supplies in our bags, and we simply relax, enjoying the not-so-intense heat in the shadow of a huge oak tree.

Just as I have finished my lunch, I look into a large throng of people, probably the busiest part of the market. Something heart-wrenchingly familiar catches my eye, and I am on my feet, staring into that same spot, before I can stop myself.

_Hair…as brown and thick as the bark of the mountain forests…_

"Senri?" Cooro's voice breaks through my dream, and there is nothing unusual in the spot I am looking at. I search for a reason for my behaviour – no doubt, they are slightly suspicious of my activities from this morning – and I find one fortunately. My inward sigh of relief freezes as my brain registers what form that reason takes.

"Igneous," I reply simply.

Commander Igneous is standing at the end of the long corridor of houses and stalls, behind the grid lock of people, talking to one of his soldiers. If he looks this way, he'd see the group of kids he's been searching for, including a Kim-un-kur boy…

The others see our enemy as well, and we gather our things as quickly and calmly as possible before heading over the hill into the forest, where we will be hidden.

"Looks like we're going to have to spend the night in here," Nana comments. I nod in agreement. Heading deeper into the forest, we begin hunting around for a good place to start camp. At dusk, we find a convenient spot, and we begin setting up camp, using the strong, flexible branches of the trees to create a shelter in case of rain or to protect us from the sun, which is bound to beat down on us until the late hours of the night.

We eat in companiable silence – expect Husky, who constantly reminds us not to eat too much of the supplies; he says he doesn't want to have to go fishing for a few days. I hide a small smile as I take in Cooro's disappointed expression. These three special children are the only people I have thought of as friends…apart from her. They are second only to her when it comes to trust, too; I would trust them with my life. But not my past. The past is my own, and I'm sure I will know if and when I am ready to tell them.

A thought makes me freeze in mid-chew: Igneous is the one who had taken her, and he had probably wanted personal vengeance. Slavery, most likely in his military camp. That would mean that, unless she was dead – I attempt to hide a wince – wherever he went…she'd have to follow…

I quickly swallow, pushing down both my food and the excitement starting to make itself known. But I won't let it; nothing is a more effective killer than vain hope. And I won't let myself be crushed. I'm about to tell the others that I'd try and find some berries or something – an alibi while I disappear to find the military camp – when I freeze again as I hear something.

A note. The clearest, purest not I have ever heard. A bugle-call to my soul.

"What is that?" Nana's sweet voice sounds like a harsh cry instead of the soft whisper my ears register – I know she doesn't want to disturb it either.

"Lythia," I say to myself more than answer her. Before my common sense has a chance to stop me, I'm on my feet and racing towards the sound. I hear the others behind me, but they thankfully don't call out, preventing the disruption of the now-developed and achingly familiar tune. Reaching the edge of a clearing, the small amount of breath remaining in my lungs leaves me.

The clearing is slightly rectangular, with a line of trees at its edge merging into the rest of the forest, and a small stream cutting through the middle. On a large rock that hangs over the water, she stands, her ever-graceful bare feet turning every now and again to take her in a new direction, while her soft hands hold the blessed instrument to her full lips. Her eyes are closed, but her face looks peaceful, as her deep-brown, flaxen hair floats around her face at every twist and leap. Her simple clothes of greying linen shirt and trousers do nothing to hide her beauty. I can't stop the word escaping my mouth.

"Ciriana."

She suddenly brings the lythia away from her lips, smiles, and her eyes open – _eyes…the colour of the leaves of the mountain forests_ – and she starts to sing.

_The water is wide, I can't get over_

_And nor do I have wings to fly._

_Give me a boat that will carry two,_

_And both shall row, my love and I._

It is a Kim-un-kur lullaby that I have heard my mother sing to me many times before, as well as teaching it to the angel in front of me. As she starts the second verse, I join in quietly, too low for her to hear, making the perfect harmonies my mother had taught me.

_There is a ship that sails to sea._

_She's loaded deep, as deep can be,_

_But not so deep as the love I'm in._

_I know not if I'll sink or swim._

Ignoring the others' curious glances, I continue to watch her as she finishes the song. The significance of the lyrics only hits me now; she is singing about love so truthfully, yet she hasn't returned to home for five years. My heart sinks, though it is kept up slightly by the sight of her; of course she would be singing about love. The amount of time she has been at the camp, she has probably found a fellow slave who must have caught her eye. Feeling myself slump, defeated, I turn to head away as the song has finished. I will leave her to her love and music.

A cry of anger stops me though, and I spin back around to face her, crouching behind a rock on the edge. My angel whirls at the yell too, her gasp carrying the distance to my ears. Igneous storms into the clearing, fury plain on his features whilst two guards flank him. Just like that day. My eyes narrow and my fists clench in memory and anticipation.

"You dare!" he bellows. Even my angel cowers slightly at the sound, which only adds to my anger.

"You dare defy me," he repeats, closer now to her but not lowering his voice, "and buy this good-for-nothing plank of tree bark with _**my**_ money!"

"No, sir!" my angel insists. "If you look, you will find all the supplies there, as promised."

"Then you have stolen it!" he concludes. "And I will _**not**_ have thieves in my camp! You will learn what it means to run away from me!"

Without warning, he raises his fist and strikes her across the cheek, making her cry out and drop the lythia into the stream. Anger coursing through me, I start to scramble up the rock before three pairs of hands drag me back down, all of them trying to pin me down to the ground.

"Not yet!" Husky hisses at me. "You will be no help to her if you get caught, which you will if we attempt a rescue your way!"

I stop struggling at the threat her getting more hurt. They trust me enough to let go of me, and I spring to my feet and glare at Husky, daring him to come up with a plan. He impressively meets my gaze levelly. "Let's follow them; that'll lead us straight to the camp, and we can make a plan there."

My angel's cry of anguish whips my head back over to them, and Igneous is striding off as if it's nothing to be pulling a sixteen-year-old girl along by her hair. She was tripping along behind him, reaching back out towards the clearing. My heart jolts as it seems she has seen me somehow, and reaching for me, and I almost stick my hand out over the rock to reach for her too. But that hope is crushed; her hand is pointing towards the stream. Of course, she's reaching for the lythia. It's the most important thing to her in this clearing.

As soon as they are out of sight through the trees, I vault over the rock, stopping only to reach into the stream and pick up the lythia. I race carefully through the trees, keeping a fair distance between me and my prey, not just for fear of them hearing me, but for fear that I might intervene prematurely, ruining all chances of my angel avoiding this unjust punishment.

Igneous leads the guards and his captive into the camp, whilst I duck behind some supply chests near the outskirts of the camp. Cooro, Husky and Nana follow me, keeping low to avoid being seen by the numerous guards placed strategically around the area. When we find a good vantage point, I turn to Husky, eyebrows raised and hoping my eyes portray the desperate impatience I'm feeling.

"Let me think," he insists, looking around and analysing the situation and surroundings. "We need to get this right so none of us get caught."

"So," Igneous releases my angel, "what do you have to say for yourself? Are you going to apologise _**now**_ or do you need to be persuaded?"

"I will _**not**_ apologise," my brave, foolish angel stands tall in defiance, "because I haven't stolen anything. The stall-keeper gave it to me as an act of kindness, though I understand if you do not know the meaning of the word, sir."

She cries out again as Igneous swipes his back-hand across her face, pushing her to the floor. Standing over her, he glares down at her with the same hate that he had five years ago.

"Then," he whispers, somehow making his threat more deadly, "you wandered away from your guard. You did not get attacked by a homeless man, or you wouldn't have been browsing through the stalls. You still deserve to be punished." With that, he draws his foot back before swinging it into her stomach, and I hear the breath rush out of her lungs as she curls in on herself.

"Hurry up!" I spit through my teeth at Husky, wanting nothing more than to rush over to Igneous and snap his neck myself. He glares at me, and continues "planning".

Igneous continues his assault, and my breathing accelerates with my anger; I can feel it now, pulsing through my veins like my heartbeat. It increases exponentially with every cry that bursts from my angel's lips. But only when Igneous picks up a broken switch of wood from beside a tent and brings it down upon her does that fury begin to boil over.

"Five seconds, Husky, then I'm getting her myself," I snarl at him quietly.

He looks startled that I have spoken a full sentence, wasting some of his time, then turns to a tent and pointing something out to me. "That there looks quite familiar. Do you know if it's hers?"

Following the direction of his finger, I recognise a familiar blanket made of beige leather. "That's hers."

"Then," Husky continues quickly, "the bag under it is probably hers to. Nana, you grab the bag and blanket, and for goodness' sake, do _**not**_ get caught. Cooro, I need you to distract him from above, then I'll rush in and push him off her. Once I've done that, _**then**_ you can come in, Senri, running from here to grab her. But once you've done that _**run straight through**_, to the other side. This is not the time or place for revenge."

I nod, grudgingly grateful that he has a plan, and that he has thought it through more than the very brief one I had in my head.

Nana is already off, skirting around the edge, then I see her dart in and retrieve both the bag and the blanket, before moving off to the other side of camp. Cooro understands that my narrowed eyes aimed in his direction mean that I want him in the air _**now**_, and he changes, opening his admittedly awesome wings, and taking to the skies, lifting a small branch up with him. I hear him swoop lower into the camp, dropping the branch directly onto Igneous' head. Nice shot, Cooro. Husky rushes in, using his staff to knock Igneous off his feet and to keep the guards away from Ciriana. I take my cue, sprinting to where she is, lying unmoving on the floor, pushing the guards onto their backs, swinging my angel onto my back, then grabbing Husky's hand with my free one. Igneous' shout of indignation follows us as we hurtle out of the camp, winding through the forest and not stopping until we are a fair distance away.

Cooro and Nana join us, and while those three bend over and catch their breath, I waste no time in gently placing Ciriana on the ground, clutching her head to my heart.

"Wake up," I plead her quietly. "Please wake up."

Pulling back, I grimace as I take a look at her; bruises blossom on almost every inch of skin I can see, which is a fair amount considering the wooden switch has torn through her clothes and skin. Blood runs in fearfully large torrents from her head, face, chest, hands and anywhere else that was unfortunate enough to receive a lashing. Pushing a piece of hair, damp with blood, out of her face, my heart and throat constrict as I see my viridian sanctuary is hidden beneath her eyelids. I'm unable to banish the tears that form in my eyes as the image of her in this state is branded into my memory. I carefully bring her head up, pressing our foreheads softly together to hide my tears from the others.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her, my voice thick. "I'm so sorry; I've failed you again."

A tender hand on my shoulder breaks me out of my private bubble. Nana's blue eyes meet my own as I turn to her. "You haven't failed," she argues. "She's alive, away from the man and place that kept her a slave, and we're going to help her."

"That's right, Senri," Cooro joins in. "She's going to get better."

"I suppose I must help," Husky agrees. "Even if it means another _**girl**_ will be joining us. But first," he continues, turning to me, "you need to go wash; you've got blood all over you."

Looking down, I notice that that's true; my precious friend's blood is saturated on my clothes and skin. But I hesitate, looking back at her.

"We'll take care of her," Husky promises, surprisingly softly and affectionately. I give him a small smile, feeling guilty for glaring at him so much over the past day, then run off to find a water source, sending a small prayer to the heavens to revive this fallen angel.

**Nana's POV**

We use our water bottles to clean the girl's wounds, washing the blood away from all over her. As I smooth her hair back, I marvel at how smooth the skin on her face is, even when it's wrinkled by a pained grimace. I remember seeing how green her eyes are, before they were closed by Igneous, and I can't help but compare myself to her.

"I wish I was as pretty as her," I say quietly. Cooro looks up at me from cleaning the wound on her head. "Even with rags like this, she's still really beautiful."

Cooro comforts me with, "But you _**are**_ pretty, Nana!" whilst Husky nullifies the effect by replying, "Nana, I don't see how that's important."

I scowl at Husky. "You know, you're _**awful**_ at sympathising with someone."

He stops wrapping the top of her arms up, and I expect him to snap back at me. But he simply stares down at it, then eventually sighs.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just don't know how to comfort girls, considering most of the stuff they worry about are things that I find pointless. You should know by now that I hate girls, but this is because I don't understand them and…" He closes his eyes angrily. "…people think I do."

"Why are you helping her then?" I ask, nodding down to the girl on the floor.

He meets my eyes then, anger flaring beneath his unnaturally pale eyes. "You think I wouldn't help someone who had been treated like this?" Guilt rushing up my throat, I'm the one who avoids eye contact now. "Besides," he continues, his voice lower, "you've seen the way Senri looks at her."

"Yeah," Cooro chips in. "He really likes her. As in really, _**really**_ likes her. I wonder how he knows her…"

"Isn't it obvious?" Husky asks, though not unkindly. "He rarely talks at all – and it's almost scary that he's doing so much of it now – and so we know practically nothing of his past. In fact, the only thing we do know is that he was protecting those flowers **(sorry, don't know what the flowers were called)** for a while before we found him."

"So you think this girl's from his childhood?" I question, my excitement rising with the mystery of it all.

"Probably. I swear I heard him say something before he started singing with her in the clearing. I think he said…something like Cerina."

"Ciriana." The voice behind us makes us jump, and we turn to see Senri, washed of blood except from his clothes, standing at the edge of our camp. As he draws nearer, I realise that I can now read him easier, since I have been with him for a while and because he's more open since we saw the girl. His eyes display mostly tenderness, but a hint of amusement at being able to startle us.

"Her name," he continues slowly, "is Ciriana." He notices our anticipatory expressions, and sighs. "I will explain tomorrow. I just need her with me…" He takes Ciriana's limp hand, looking at her face, and smiles slightly, like he's remembering a private joke. "…for moral support." He smiles again. "How is she?"

"Better," Husky replies. "She doesn't look so bad now with all the blood washed away."

"Good." Surprising us all, Senri takes our hands in both of his, looking us each directly in the eye, one after the other. "Thank you." His voice is so low I barely hear him, but the lack of volume does nothing to dim the amount of sincerity he says it with. I smile at him, happy that Senri may now be opening up to us, and accepting us as his new family.

**I know, I know; I've probably got a few things wrong. I am really sorry about that, but this idea just came to me, and I can't get rid of it. Alright, hope you appreciate it anyway.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


	3. Reminiscence

**Chapter 3: Reminiscence**

**Senri's POV**

The middle of the night is the most amazing time in the forest we are in; the almost-full moon provides the perfect mood-lighting, making all the inhabitants, both my friends and the flora surrounding us, look like they have been dipped in pure silver, generously showing the true value of the four sleeping bodies around me.

Well, three sleeping, one unconscious; Ciriana has yet to stir. Only her face has relaxed from its pained expression, her skin smoothing out to something akin to serenity. She had always looked like that when she slept. As I lie on the blessedly cool ground, failing to beckon sleep to me, I remember the rare, sacred nights where we had fallen asleep in each others' arms, needing comfort from one another, protection from the outside world. We would both be comfortable with it, but for different reasons: she had never viewed me as more than a brother she had always wanted; I had relished in our company, constantly, selfishly wishing for more but gratefully receiving what she offered.

As I think of her body heat, warming me up on some of those frosty nights, I shiver, suddenly feeling impossibly cold; the night is definitely warm enough for me to last without my beige leather poncho. But I realise what the feeling is when the irrational sensation of loneliness spreads through my being. Looking back towards her still form, I silently debate the outcome of my choice; we both hadn't changed that much physically, but perhaps over the years, for whatever reason or reasons, she had forgotten me? What would she think if she woke up in the middle of a forest with a strange boy huddled up to her? I banish that painful thought quickly; no, surely she would remember me. The brother-figure – I smile wryly – with whom she did everything.

Mind made up, I rise from my position by the now-sleeping fire, and walk quietly over to her, kneeling beside her and gazing at her face. The face that has always fascinated and hooked me. My mother always said some words can be defined by a certain object alone. Resilience or determination, for example, could be defined in the proud oaks on the mountain that withstand such winters as the sixteen I have seen. Beauty and kindness, I find, can be defined by Ciriana's perfect face, which hardens only when her family or friends are threatened, or when she is speaking of justice, as she had been in Igneous' camp, just a few short hours ago.

I jump as the thought of Igneous makes me return to my senses; somehow I have leant my face further down, towards the limp figure on the ground in front of me. I freeze, not moving from the position I had "woken up" in, trying to ignore how flawless her skin is even up-close. I know what I would have done had I not realised my position this soon. I know what my subconscious had wanted to do…because, now my senses are in my control, I want to do it too. I had never had that privilege before, when we were together in Liali, for fear of her shock and rejection not just of me, but of my friendship too. But here is an opportunity, where I can fulfil that wish without her knowledge, without any fear of her protests. I chastise myself for thinking of taking advantage of her – quite literally – whilst she is in this state, of betraying her trust. But, my subconscious reminds me, I had never done anything like this to her before. Surely I should be allowed just one reward?

After vowing never to do this to her again, I recommence leaning down, my breath speeding up ever-so-slightly at the anticipation. I am concentrating too hard on my breathing to realise I have reached my destination until I feel her lips on mine. And blessed Brighid **(pronounced like the name Brigid. I'll explain the relevance later)**; even with the metallic tang of dried blood, her lips are the juiciest, sweetest persuasion of forbidden fruit there can ever be. Her soft, faint fragrance of mountain lavender smothers me. Even before I had touched her lips, I had known that this would not be chaste. But I do not expect the almost overwhelming urge to remain here, physically attached to her, for eternity. Shocked by this amount of passion, I move my lips once, experimentally stroking her lips with mine, and the softness of them sends another wave of the unexplainable feeling through me. I realise, with a jolt, that this is my first kiss. Older children from Liali had often discussed the feeling of their first kiss, and when Ciriana and I were hiding in the trees, we would listen to these conversations, imagining our own fantasies of our own first kisses. Most of my fantasies were of my first kiss with her. Yet, of all the dreaming I had done, I had not done her justice. If only she were awake now to give her own opinion of it…

I couldn't have recoiled faster if she had been awake and slapped me. Tears spring to my eyes for the second time in a few hours, and I press my tightly clenched fist against my forehead in attempt to quieten the sob that bubbles up my throat. The sheer surprise of its existence makes me unprepared to smother it completely – the last and only time I remember crying is the night after she had been taken away – so I cover my mouth with the hem of my undershirt in order to catch the sound which echoes like thunder in the still clearing.

Once my body ceases spilling its emotions, I remove my shirt from my mouth, using it to catch the remaining tears on my cheeks. I look back again to the object of my distress and cracked dreams, sadness creeping up my throat again at the very thought of my exploitation and of the certain and almost-_**only**_ possible answer to my inner question; her rejection. That is the only possible outcome if I confessed and exposed myself to her.

I hang my head in shame as I realise the thing I have been boasting to myself all these year, that I have opened up to one person only, is not entirely accurate; true, Ciriana is the only person to whom I have told many secrets that I would not dare tell anyone else. But there is one secret, one concealment, which I have kept a mystery even to her. But to rectify that would be to surrender to her, to leave myself without protection and present her with a dagger which she could throw in two directions: to the ground or into my heart. Even a bear cannot survive with a dagger in his heart, and her dismissal – obviously the only consequence of that decision – would leave me crushed.

So, no; the only thing to do is preserve what I have, and remain only friends with her. Companionship with her is more than I could ask for, and deserve, anyway.

A solution finally reached after all the masochism, I convince myself that it is safe for me to go near her again, and take comfort in the nearness of her body as I lie close to her, gently wrapping my arms around her delicate waist and pressing my face into her hair. Lavender welcomes me again and, as I finally slip into peaceful numbness, I can only hope her welcome in the morning is as easy and as forgiving.

**Ciriana's POV**

The first thing I feel is heat. A burning sensation that covers my entire body, emanating from a brightness above me that scorches my retinas even through my closed eyelids. Then the heat intensifies across certain parts of my body, and I finally recognise it as pain. As my body searches for an explanation, I remember Igneous dragging me back to camp and giving me a lashing I'm surely going to feel for the next week. I groan as the pain spreads, and I try to writhe away from the other heat source, as it can't be doing any good for my injuries. My side presses against another, softer source of heat, but it's enough to send a flare of pain through my body. I groan again, louder this time, and I look down at my waist, expecting to see ropes where Igneous has no doubt tied me to some sort of heavy bag. Instead I find a pair of arm, encircling me gently. Confused, I look around at my surroundings: a forest, the generic kind with no distinguishing features…except three sleeping bodies in a circle around a now-dormant fire, and another behind me. None of whom I know.

Now, even though I am ecstatic to be away from Igneous – no matter how temporarily – I still do not trust strangers just like that. So I do what any possible captive of potentially evil child criminals would do; I scream and writhe and kick all I can. My fuss rouses the three I can see first, and they all begin to rush over to me, making me kick more – they're coming to restrain and attack me! The arms around my waist unwind slightly so the hands on the end can grab my arms, then they quickly tighten again, pinning my arms to my sides and bringing my back against a hard chest. My captor leans his face against my neck. I can feel his hot breath against my ear, panting with the effort of restraining me.

"Hush up, Ciriana! Igneous will hear you from a few miles away," a deep mellow voice hisses at me.

I freeze. No captor would know my name, surely? And this person is warning me about Igneous. What's more, I couldn't forget that voice if I wanted to, and there's only one person I know of who would use such phrases as "hush up".

Heart thumping in my ears, I turn around in the now-loosened arms as gently as I can so as not to disturb my wounds. I look away from the face, almost saving it, and take in the obviously muscular chest, hidden behind a familiar white linen undershirt, the sleeves ending just past halfway down his forearms. I draw my eyes up to his broad, proud shoulders, along his smooth neck where straight tendrils of his dark, almost-metallic-coloured hair hang down. Finally, I reach his face, and blessed Brighid, his skin has gotten smoother despite my thinking it was impossible. His pale complexion – a trademark of mountain villagers – holds no blemishes. His flawless lips are open slightly, and I feel his sweet breath caress my lips as his breathing also picks up in tense anticipation. The only thing wrong with this angel is the fact that I can't see both his eyes; a piece of black cloth covers his left one, the material spreading across over his left ear but thinning out on the right side before doing likewise. All the material is hidden under his unique hair.

Suddenly, I have the strongest urge I have ever known. I _**need**_ to see his other eye, to see both orbs of the darkest kind of brown staring into my own, the leaves finally meeting the bark once again. Ignoring the protest of pain, I reach up quickly, pushing the tips of my fingers into the top part of the patch, just above his eye. I am about to pull it down when he makes a sound; an urgent objection. I stop again, and he relaxes, his hand coming up to pry my own away. He draws it down his face to his cheek, the one eye I can see closes in apology and he shakes his head.

I continue staring at his face, not at all fazed by his complaint, and wait until he opens his eyes again. As he does so, I call my voice up my throat finally, and start to speak. I stop after the first sound comes out though, as it sounds so horribly raspy that I think it unworthy to be heard by his ears. I settle for whispering.

"I know what I'd see should I remove that, don't I?"

His eyes never wander from mine as he slowly nods, anticipation and anxiety clear in the midnight depths. Anxiety? What does he fear? The anticipation is directed at me, I realise, meaning he is trying to predict my reaction to seeing him. Could he possibly be worried that I wouldn't _**want**_ to see him? That thought alone pushes a sob up my throat, and I fling myself at him, expecting to wrap my arms around him…only to be stopped by the blaze of agony from most of my body. I cry out in surprise and pain, falling back to the ground, causing another flash of torture.

"Her cuts have opened again," one of the younger ones speaks urgently. "We need to treat them again, then change her bandages."

I groan as they set about their tasks, and when I felt the hand being pulled from mine, I cry out in desperation.

"No, Senri; you stay with her."

I silently agree with and thank whoever owns that voice as the strain on my hand lessens. The desperation gone, though, and the sensation of pain returns to my awareness, and I groan again. Dammit, after all those years of enduring it, and the time I show weakness is in front of _**him**_!

"Ri, it hurts so much," I can't stop the sentence from exiting my mouth.

"I know, and I'm so sorry." His voice practically begs for my forgiveness. But what do I have to forgive him for? What could he have done wrong? Simply being with him is a blessing, yet being with him when we are both away from Igneous is surely more than I deserve.

"Nana, press down hard on the large scar on her stomach."

The "Nana" person does so, and pain sparks its way right to the edges of my being. I attempt to close my eyes and grit my teeth so as not to show anymore weakness, but my closing eyelids dislodge drops of moisture collected at the corners of my forest-green eyes. Something soft is pressed against my cheeks, catching the unwelcome tears, and I start to cry even more when my next inhalation brings with it the familiar smell of the object. My quilt! They've got my quilt!

Memories rush back to me, numbing me from the blaze of agony roaring through my body; my best friend and I huddled under the quilt on the cold winter nights where we just needed each other's company; me using it to clean my best friend's various wounds; my best friend using it to dry my tears after yet another fight with my mother as she dismisses me as a freak…

I fight for my eyes to open, blinking away the tears so I can clearly see the patch over his eye. So I can clearly see the pain I have caused him.

"Why didn't you let me go?" I cry. His hands cease in their task to stop my tears, and he stares at me with shock bordering on disbelief. "You got yourself hurt," I continue, wincing as the punishment pain shoots through me again. "My own mother realised I was not worth the effort." I know I should be afraid of the fury stirring in the one eye I can see, but I need to finish. I lift my arm up slowly, a small sound escaping my lips at the pain it brings, and brush my hand across that patch. "I hurt you, and I'm so sorry."

Finally, Senri moves; he drops my quilt with one hand and almost violently grabs my hand that is over his eye-patch, his non-covered eye glowing with rage. He opens his mouth a few times, trying to say something, but obviously too angry at me to think that I deserve words. Noticing a dull pain in my wrist, a nuisance in comparison to the inferno in the rest of my body, and I frown in confusion at the source, buried under Senri's clenched fist. In my peripheral vision, I see him glance in the same direction. I hear him gasp and he quickly releases my wrist, and the pain gradually fades. I look at him in confusion, uncomprehending of the look of horror on his face.

Suddenly, he flips onto his feet and races into the forest and away from me. I cry out to him, his absence leaving me cold, so the inferno burns more fiercely with the temperature difference. Tears fill my vision at my pain and loss, and this time, the tears remain rolling down my cheeks because my best friend is not there to wipe them away.


End file.
